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"unfreezing" poems
I can only remember your eyes looked like moons bathing me in bluish clarity peeking below trees; They brushed your face like eyelashes. I wish Mother Nature had given me a more Celestial body, that I could show my love in grander gestures. Disappearing woman, I imagine the breeze is your lips unfreezing glass-water Bringing canvassed flower -field alive with just a touch. Disappearing woman, I looked for you on mountaintops and beneath rust colored leaves that fall.
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
Disappearing Woman
Somewhere in the star-brightened space - An impossible depth away from green - A hungry traveler ghosts between Appetite and appetite, and place and place. Out in the unfreezing lowest of degrees, Some behemoth of infinite impunity And infinitesimal size - a unity In one point - eats, and hungers, and agrees That, once, matter mattered more than a maw Gaping impossibly small and wide. (Better nature has collapsed inside, And galaxies are cleaved as with a saw In a Carpenter's hand.) However, simplicity Is a muted charm in a bottomless pit. When pressure's wake is a woodshop kit, Survivors owe nothing to serendipity.
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Dec 3, 2010
Dec 3, 2010 at 9:12 PM UTC
Singularity
Darkness haunches over me The mountains swallow the obsidian sea A thick chill weighs heavy on my lungs Like the sinking night The ocean with no will to rise and fall lays still to the weight of time And I, knees tucked tight, watch the minutes pass by contemplating, soul searching as the calvary draws from the east Arterial red spears pierce the darkness Copper ink bleeds from sky to sea casting colour like rose petals and cotton candy to welcome the sun as it’s light drowns out the night The mountains retreat like watchdogs backing down The chill lifts unfreezing the motionless tide Lovers take to the long stretch And so the day begins
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Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 10:16 AM UTC
Waiting for the Sun to Rise
Its like sunset leaving shadow of the day, like everyone returning home, tired. simply when it cries, it doesnt show its hurt, it doesn't scream, with its sound of silence, it dont want to get someones attention it wants to be alone, I listen to a rhythm of its beat, it show how I feel, it started to let my hand write, anything that discribe, how it does, and how it is, I cry it never let sleep i want to freeze it, shut it down but it can't, its still beating unfreezing no one can see it, not if it let me do. aching, still making sounds, nobody can hear right here, right now.
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Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
My broken heart
a stopping sort of started ending newing knewing sort of ended stopped and beganed sort of yesing sort of wooing newing       sortofandalso                                   alsok         i          nd of stopped starting begunning like well gee the summer was a nasal laughing roughness kind of sort of.             i'd like to kind of   or else to maybe                                               with autumn who was distinctly haired         in rich arresting dead                that kind of starting stopping started                                                                                     or well i'd like to think      it,swellwhynotanywaybecause noone never didn't atall even in the big gabled church of dawn that strung the sky with gelatinous heaving fibers all rabidly gesticulating puffy sansfinger hands grimaced on the slender naked blue and black and bursting sort of kind of because sinewed fluffy hammers on because wrists because                                                when you get all ***** in the mucky sterile daughters little pink little rose bud climbing open little rose bud up open big blooming like pink little sort of big sort of small sort of rose bud         you kind ofwell you clean kind of your you you clean kind of clean it straight razor cleaning your you           you cleaned with her big sharp little ******* all sharp and little and big under her shirts under her skirts kind of sort of because                             that,s                             wher                              e                             she keeps it she                             keepsitin there                                                                                                                        summer: she was unfreezing fresh squeezed lemon wedges sugar hilltops sweaty laughing nightmares in the big in the pale in the cordial surly pillow thick skinny heaps of gobbled luscious hot raining balmy slow quaking deaths every day i stood on that hill and i looked out over the city and she was really well gee sort of because.... . . . .               .                ,       ;       '                "
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Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 4:00 AM UTC
a stopping sort of started ending
a stopping sort of started ending newing knewing sort of ended stopped and beganed sort of yesing sort of wooing newing       sortofandalso                                   alsok         i          nd of stopped starting begunning like well gee the summer was a nasal laughing roughness kind of sort of.             i'd like to kind of   or else to maybe                                               with autumn who was distinctly haired         in rich arresting dead                that kind of starting stopping started                                                                                     or well i'd like to think      it,swellwhynotanywaybecause noone never didn't atall even in the big gabled church of dawn that strung the sky with gelatinous heaving fibers all rabidly gesticulating puffy sansfinger hands grimaced on the slender naked blue and black and bursting sort of kind of because sinewed fluffy hammers on because wrists because                                                when you get all ***** in the mucky sterile daughters little pink little rose bud climbing open little rose bud up open big blooming like pink little sort of big sort of small sort of rose bud         you kind ofwell you clean kind of your you you clean kind of clean it straight razor cleaning your you           you cleaned with her big sharp little ******* all sharp and little and big under her shirts under her skirts kind of sort of because                             that,s                             wher                              e                             she keeps it she                             keepsitin there                                                                                                                        summer: she was unfreezing fresh squeezed lemon wedges sugar hilltops sweaty laughing nightmares in the big in the pale in the cordial surly pillow thick skinny heaps of gobbled luscious hot raining balmy slow quaking deaths every day i stood on that hill and i looked out over the city and she was really well gee sort of because.... . . . .               .                ,       ;       '                "
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as usual a b o u t me goes the supple trunks. thralling ribbons. collapse;doi to the clutch of soft roots stupidly and muscles. more now lightning strings coruscate ardently loving the earth. vibrate femininity suddenly correct in my winter. hot petals meddle in the snow. and melt. i'm not who i wasn't or who i am. frosted. but calmly:ami unfreezing in cup of dainty p a l m (s.he) is the heat.
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Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
e
If even only for a second things could seem clear, I would choke down every last drip and drop of alcohol in this unfreezing world. Every last drag and hit of each and every intoxicating drug. I would reveal every single one of my addictions through this shallow looking glass to inspect for the rest of my life. Including this addiction and drug we call love.
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Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
Through A Looking Glass
crackling wood, black smoke rises, the red snakes flickers its' tongues. The heat is like soft silk, caressing my frozen soul. sitting by the fireplace, the hearth silently whispers: stay with me, I'm not like the others, stay, and sit, and watch me. A calming sight, a soothing sound, everything was nice, but my greedy heart was not satisfied, I wanted the fire higher! more wood I threw in the fire place, my eager heart desires to fasten the process of unfreezing my flesh, to hush my impatient soul. put materials into the fire no more, my father sternly warned for then you will cause unwanted harm, no benefits would come. but the red snake screamed at me: NO! MORE! FEED ME! HE WARNS YOU BECAUSE HE FEARS THAT YOU WILL BECOME THE BETTER BURNER. desiring warmth, I burnt more wood and more! and MORE! AND MORE! but instead of release, what I received was a house of burning fire. the fiery python engulfed my home, with its mocking diamond eyes. was it because I trusted the devil's advice, or the greed thats of my own?
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Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
The forbidden fire
we walk the path to the spring where the waters come constant from the ground unfreezing warm enough for duckweed to thrive even in blue winter, deep with snow. the air holds few sounds, the snap and tumble of tree limb, river's crashing iced sheets, the click and kew of the junco, wind, amplified one hundred fold razor sharp in the cold. how does the waters know who told it; here. it's here that you will rise, at the end of a path in a small cleft, said by locals to be the gathering place of the ancients, the fairies and the dead who died before their time? we come to the spring and beside it as deep in the snow as we are in its mysteries, we become a part of the story reassured that the promise of the thaw is as constant as the coming march sun and the ever flowing water at our feet.
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Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 4:41 AM UTC
how in this bitter cold can the spring still flow?
As a lactose intolerant cow whirring lion eye zing dual (Banjo playing) Manichean ("FAKE") keen man womanizing, faux nymphomaniac wannabe, I cone only scream about visualizing nip pulling and getting a breast of Hani La (vanilla), this sweltering unfreezing Wednesday while mouth watering chiefly hanker for milch of human kindness, which titillating fanciful fandom fantasies skinny dipping into soliloquizing whet dreams har made sadly, simply, and sorely realizing test tickles quizzing noggin merely figment of fertile imagination pricking prurient potent plentifully oozing naughty salacious, licentious, and felicitous evocations pulsating hypnotically invoking trance send dint overriding gloriously flirtatious escapade needling my over active thought processes monopolizing ability to focus attention trying to compose joyous leavening, sans jump starting massaging, and kneading dormant limp libido liberating panting allied force, which seems tubby in axis Sybil for Nick - A.Ting, thus Celeb Basie, frantically, gingerly, and haphazardly kickstarting ***** riot with this feeble attempt for a firm hut heave action, one docile male member devoid of livingsocial, hence aye **** sitter ring joining a nunnery, which would be habit chilly unfitting, and very un convent shin null for a poetic ending!
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
Aye Chalk Lot, A Boot The Latest Scoop
A simple summer crush, the memories still make me blush. We were a perfect match, that's why we caught fire so fast. Your warm breath, caressing my skin, unfreezing my heart from within. Loosing myself again, in the gentle summer rain. Baby, it was magic we were making and my heart was yours for the taking. Sand, salt and skin; kissing you, my head would spin. Now summer is long gone, not sure what went wrong and why the magic couldn't last or why summer flew by so fast. ALesiach © 07/26/2019
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Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 7:41 PM UTC
Summer Crush